


In The Wake

by Eratoschild



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Aftercare, M/M, Post-knife kink, a kiss where it hurts, intentional cutting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-15 20:48:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14797718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eratoschild/pseuds/Eratoschild
Summary: “Does it hurt?” He asks in a whisper. The answer comes, a nod and a radiant smile.





	In The Wake

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ItsAlwaysBloodMagic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsAlwaysBloodMagic/gifts).



> Written by request from Itsalwaysbloodmagic, with the prompt "a kiss where it hurts". 
> 
> I've been in the mood to write more Promnis knife kink but not quite prepared to start a new work, knowing how long it's likely to be. This was just enough to satisfy the mood for a bit. This takes place in the same continuum as Willing Prey but is not intended to be directly connected. Be sure to give that one a read if you love Promnis. Or knife kink. Or both.

Afterwards, there is pain on Prompto's face, visible in the little winces and flinches, but each fades quickly back into peace and pleasure- just past and still to come. The cuts, no longer bleeding, but still fresh, sweetly stinging; this he knows from his own experience, just as he knows that Prompto can feel the slight pull of split flesh as he moves. Ignis has already swabbed them with aneseptic. He loosens the restraints and guides Prompto to the bed, leather-clad hands lowering him onto the mattress. Green eyes smiling softly, his demeanor fully changed from that which he takes on while wielding the blades. Persona of menacing predator discarded, he again reveals himself as neither more, nor less, than the tender lover.

Only now does Ignis undress. He can feel the faint weight of violet blue eyes on him as he removes each article of clothing. Coming around to the other side of the bed, he lies down. His gaze sweeps over the scored landscape of Prompto's skin, admiring the aftermath of the bite of his blades.

“Does it hurt?” He asks in a whisper. The answer comes, a nod and a radiant smile. His fingers trace parallel paths to the reddened tracks, evidence left in their wake as he lays feather kisses along each raw cut.

* * *

 


End file.
